Saving Intuition

She whispers to me in hushed tones,

Tugs at my sleeve and heartstrings.

I bat her away like a relentlessly annoying fly,

and even then she gets up again.

She’s at my heels and has my back,

even though hers is chafed from falling incessantly.

Like a violinist, I ruffle her cords every time I distrust her.

But she stays.

But for how much longer will she stay?

And for how much longer will I let fear remain a wall?

I fear she may break her back someday,

and leave me all alone.

And then I shall be the straw that broke intuition’s back.